


Help You Out

by Impala_Dreamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: All the Smut, F/M, NSFW, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 15:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15003503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Dreamer/pseuds/Impala_Dreamer
Summary: ~When Dean finds out that Y/N has never been pleased orally, he convinces her to let him have a go…~





	Help You Out

“Mornin’.” Dean looked up from his breakfast as Y/N stumbled into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she replied sleepily. Her hair was a slept-on mess, eyes dark with the smudges of her makeup. Her clothes, Dean realized, were the same as the day before.

Dean smirked around his coffee mug. “Walk of shame?” he teased.

Y/N shrugged and poured herself some joe. “More like ‘walk of meh’.”

“No good?”

“I mean…” Y/N took the seat across from Dean and blew on her coffee to cool it. “He was…hot. Real hot. Blonde. Tall. Nice ass.” She paused, staring off into the distance, picturing her one night stand.

Dean popped a piece of bacon into his mouth. “That’s all chicks think about guys, isn’t it? He was tall with a nice ass.”

“You have a nice ass,” she laughed.

“Excuse me?” Dean sat up, nearly choking on his bacon.

Y/N winked. “It’s plump.”

He blushed. “You’re gross.”

Y/N shrugged and looked away, trying to brush off her less than amazing date and take comfort in her coffee.

When the blood had retreated from his cheeks, Dean sat back, taking his coffee with him. “So why was Mr. Tallie McNice-Ass just so-so?”

“I didn’t say he was so-so,” she smiled. “He was fine.”

“But the date was ‘meh’,” Dean said, air-quoting her colorful description with two fingers.

“No,” Y/N argued, shaking her head. “The date was fun.”

“So you’re talking about the after date part.”

“Maybe.”

“The sex.”

It was her turn to blush, and Y/N sat up as the heat rushed to her face. “I’m going to bed.” She pushed away from the table to stand up, but Dean sat forward, distracting her.

“No,” he pouted. “Why?”

Y/N let out a sarcastic laugh, too tired to deal with him. “I’m not gonna talk about sex with you, Dean.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N/N. We talk about it all the time.”

“Not really…” She stood finally and walked her mug to the sink.

Dean turned in his chair to face her. “Ok. No judgement. I won’t laugh, I promise. Why was the sex so meh? He have a small-”

Y/N spun around from the sink, her hands up to stop his question, her mouth open in shock. “Whoa! No! I mean… it was… average.” She shook herself as a shiver of memory and revulsion trickled down her spine. “I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“Come on,” he nudged, giving her a trusting smile. He leaned back against the wall and crossed arms. “Talk, Y/L/N.”

Y/N sighed. “I don’t know. He was very attentive. Very sweet. He tried…really hard, like…for a long while and finally I got bored and faked it and we moved along.”

Confusion spread over Dean’s face. When he looked to her for more details, Y/N raised her eyebrows in silent conversation and slowly dropped her chin, motioning to her nether region.

Dean’s eyes grew wide as her meaning clicked in his head. “Are you talking about…” He lifted two fingers to his lips and stuck his pointed tongue between them, finishing his question.

“Oh. My. God.” Y/N hid behind her hands and cringed. “Yes,” she confessed, peeking through her fingers. “I’m talking about… that.”

Dean chuckled and then remembered his promise not to laugh. He cleared his throat and sat up, adopting an air of business. “So, he was no good at it? That’s a real shame, Y/N/N. It really is an art form.”

Deciding the embarrassment was never going to end, Y/N slowly made her way back to the table. “I don’t know, he seemed to know what he was doing.”

Dean swiveled as she took her seat again. “But you didn’t-”

“Don’t say it,” she pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut tight in preparation.

“Cum?” Dean finished.

“Awe, why’d you have to say it?” Y/N pouted and dramatically tossed her arms onto the table, followed shortly by her forehead. She groaned and then spoke from the cave of her arms. “No. I didn’t cum.”

Dean frowned. “That’s no good.”

“It’s OK,” she said, raising her chin to rest upon her hands. “I never do. Not from that anyway. I mean I do cum… just not from anyone…else…doing things…there.”

“Really?” Dean looked down at the crumbs on his plate, genuinely sad for her. “Y/N/N, I’m so sorry.”

“Wow, Dean,” she laughed awkwardly. “Chill. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

Dean was visibly upset and it only made Y/N laugh harder. “No that’s not right.” He demanded. “It’s very wrong in fact. You deserve better.”

The last bit struck an odd chord inside of her, and Y/N set her hands on the table. “Yeah…this is getting weird,” she said and pushed herself up. “I’m gonna go… away now.”

Dean didn’t protest her departure or add any more to the conversation. He watched her leave, shaking his head in pure disappointment. “Wow.”

 

 

Sometime before lunch, Dean found Y/N in the gym, furiously punching the bag that hung down from the ceiling. Her hair was matted to her forehead, sweat glistening off of her bare arms and neck. She grunted as she worked, taking her aggression out on the bag like a champ.

“Nice form,” Dean complimented as he walked over to her.

Y/N smiled and landed another punch. “Thanks.”

“So, I’ve been thinking,”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

Dean stepped behind the bag and held it steady for her. “Funny,” he went on, clearing his throat as he continued with the speech he had prepared. “I can’t stand the thought of you never having had a true experience with someone…down there.”

Y/N froze and dropped her forehead to the bag in embarrassment. “God damnit. I can’t believe I told you.”

Dean peeked around the bag. “No, I’m glad you did.”

“Why?”

“I want to help you.”

Y/N stood up and cocked her head at him. “What?”

“Help you,” he said again. “Ya know…polish the hardwood floor.” Her brows twitched. “Dine at the Y.” She cringed. “Eat the peach.” She gasped. “Flick the be-”

“Shut up!” Her hands flew to cover her ears, and she screwed her eyes shut tight. “Shut up, shut up!”

“Y/N/N,” he smiled and walked around the bag to face her. “If we can talk about it, we shouldn’t be doing it.”

Y/N dropped her hands and let out a laugh of shock. “You’re damn right we’re not doing it.”

“Come on, Kid. Think about it.”

“Ok. Um…no.”

“Give me one good reason.”

Dean smiled a cocky smile and Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, trying to come up with the best reason to deny him. There were lists of cons running through her mind, but she needed to pick the most obvious.

“Because we’re friends,” she settled on, figuring that would be enough.

She was wrong.

“That didn’t stop us in Bloomfield,” he argued.

Y/N sighed in defeat, but he was right. “That was different.”

“How?” Dean crossed his arms.

Y/N mimicked his stance. “Well, first of all, you didn’t go…”

“Clam diving?”

Her eyes rolled so far back, Sam would have been proud. “I hate you,” she sighed. “Also, that was like, ‘oh my god I’m so glad we didn’t just die’ sex. Totally different than what you’re suggesting.”

Dean stuck his tongue in his cheek. “Uh huh. And what about Tulsa?”

Y/N groaned. “That was ‘too much whiskey’ sex.”

“And Cincinnati?”

“OK, shut up!” Y/N barked, tossing her hands up and turning away.

Dean laughed and waited until she wasn’t spinning. “All I’m saying is, I think this could be good for you. This can be, ‘helping a friend out’ sex. Trust me. I’m very good at it.”

Y/N looked back at him over her shoulder, her eyes searching his face for sincerity, shocked to find it there in full. “I’m going for a walk,” she said quickly, not wanting to further the conversation. “You’re insane,” she added before moving towards the door.

Dean touched her arm when she passed, and Y/N paused as he licked his lips and grinned. “Just…think about it.”

 

 

She thought about it.

All fucking day.

When she was cleaning up her room, his face popped into her head, his smile, his lips…

While helping Sam reorganize some files in the storage room, her imagination wandered off without her, dropping her into a hazy daydream of a montage of Dean’s tongue sliding across his bottom lip.

The worst of it came at supper when she sat across from the devil himself and watched as he practically made out with his beer. His plump lips pursed to fit against the rim as he tipped back the brown glass, and Y/N’s heart raced. When he pulled it away, his bottom lip was left glistening with the drink, his sinful tongue darted out to collect a wayward drop.

Y/N was mesmerized, staring without shame at the display before her.

Dean noticed, but he played it cool, not calling attention to the starry-eyed look he was being given. Just for fun, he deliberately bit his lip a few times, letting the bottom slide slowly free. He might have been imagining it, but Y/N seemed to actually shiver when he pressed the tip of his tongue between his teeth.

Not wanting to embarrass her, Dean waited until Sam was gone to say anything.

“Whatcha looking at?” he asked with a knowing smirk.

Y/N shook herself and sat back, trying to peel her eyes away from his mouth. “Um, nothing.”

Dean nodded and set his beer down, rocking it gently between two fingers, calm and collected. “Have any thoughts about my proposition?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, as if in a dream. Dean grinned and Y/N snapped out of it. “I mean, no. What? Pfft. No. I mean… well…” She took a breath and chewed her lip nervously. “What’s in it for you, anyway?”

Dean shrugged and smiled sweetly. “Can’t a guy help out his friend?”

Y/N laughed. “Not generally like this; no.”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, setting his elbows on the table. “I like doing it. Haven’t done it in a while, and you’re kinda like a… challenge, I guess.”

Y/N sat forward and clasped her hands on the table. “You think you’ll get a medal or something if you make me cum?”

Dean smirked and licked his lip. “Listen,” he laughed. “There is something to be said for Friends With Benefits. This would just be you taking advantage of the first benefit.”

“Ah, I see.” Y/N shook her head and looked over at him, not sure what to do. “I don’t know, Dean.”

“Look, if you honestly don’t want to, I get it,” he said simply. “Say the word and I’ll stop talking about it. Won’t bring it up again.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Y/N sighed in relief and let her shoulders drop. “OK. Thank you.”

Silence fell between and around them, the pair eyeing each other, but looking away immediately when caught. It was a silly game, but they were playing it well, neither one wanting to push too hard.

After a moment, Dean gave up. “You want to, don’t you?”

Y/N nodded. “I really kinda do.”

“Well, good.” Dean laughed. “Me too.”

“There are some…conditions…” Y/N said, sticking her thumb nail between her teeth.

“Obviously,” Dean consented, gesturing with open hands.

“You can’t tell Sam.”

Dean nodded. “That’s fine. But neither can you then,” he added, holding up a finger in warning.

“OK, that’s fair.” She took a breath and looked down at the table. “And…if I really can't… ya know… I don’t want you to keep trying. It’s just kinda awkward. I appreciate the effort, but it kinda just hurts after a while. OK?”

“OK,” Dean agreed. “But you will. I know it.” His smile lit up his eyes, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh.

“Glad you’re so confident.”

“Honey, I am eighty-nine percent confidence.”

“What’s the other eleven,” she sassed. “Bullshit?”

“Clearly.”

Y/N laughed but quickly lost her nerve. “Oh god, this is weird now, isn’t it?”

“No, no. It’s not.” Dean reached across the table and patted her hand gently. “Here,” he said softly. “Why don’t you go get comfy. Do whatever it is you do to relax, take a bath, light a candle, whatever.” Y/N seemed to calm down, so he went on. “I’ll knock on your door at ten thirty. If you change your mind between now and then, just tell me to go away when I knock, and we’ll forget all about this. OK?”

Y/N sucked in a steady breath and nodded. “Deal.” She stood and sprinted towards the door, too nervous to keep talking to him. Just before she turning into the hallway, Dean looked over his shoulder at her.

“You’re gonna love this,” he called.

Dean laughed as her response echoed back to him.

“Oh, boy…”

 

 

The shower was amazing, as always. The Bunker’s water pressure was just one of the tiny miracles in their lives, but Y/N could not relax. She stood in the hot downpour and tried to ease the tension in her shoulders, but all she could think of was Dean.

It made her incredibly nervous, and inexplicably aroused.

Sure, they’d hooked up a few times, but those moments had been adrenaline-fueled trysts that were over as quickly they began; nothing as intimate as Dean had suggested for tonight.

It worried her tremendously. What if she couldn’t cum? What if he laughed at her tomorrow? What if he was terrible at it and she laughed at him tomorrow? It was all very nerve wracking, and Y/N found herself getting queasy as the water turned cold.

Back in her room, she put on her old pink flannel pajamas and a pair of fuzzy socks. She stood in front of her mirror and brushed out her hair, but she felt stupid.

“Not sexy,” she whispered to her reflection.

The pjs went back in the drawer and Y/N pulled out a black lace nightie. She slipped into it quickly and posed seductively on the edge on the bed, but again, it felt wrong.

“No. No. No.” Shaking her head at her mirror twin, Y/N changed yet again, finally pulling on an old, faded gym shirt that she’d kept since high school. The old tiger logo was maroon ghost on the chest, and there were holes under the collar hem, but it was soft and comforting.

Y/N shrugged at herself. “That’s as good as it gets.”

The numbers on her clock turned and with ten minutes to go, Y/N started feeling anxious. She paced the room, she lit a candle. She turned off the lights, she turned them back on. She played with her phone, then shoved it in a drawer. Nothing was relaxing, everything felt weird.

Y/N propped her pillows up against the headboard and picked a hardcover from her night stand. She tried to read, but the words were a blur; she was too worried about Dean.

“This is a mistake,” she groaned and tossed her book across the room in utter frustration. It landed by the door, pages rustling loudly as they settled against the floor, crushed and unloved.

She couldn’t leave it like that. Y/N sighed and climbed out of bed, rescuing her book from the floor. With whispers of apology, she smoothed out the wrinkled paper and started to relax. She was just being silly. It was Dean; not some stranger off the street. Besides, shed done worse with a stranger already.

Y/N laughed quietly to herself and then jumped in surprise when Dean’s knuckles tapped gently on her door.

Her voice was suddenly gone, and she looked back and forth between the door and bed, trying to get her brain to cooperate.

He knocked again.

In a moment of ridiculous panic, Y/N jumped back into bed and opened the book, trying to look casual as she finally answered.

“Come in.”

She held her breath as the door opened and watched as a freshly showered Winchester appeared in the opening, his smooth cheeks dimpled with a smile.

“I was starting to think no one was home,” he joked and stepped inside.

Y/N laughed awkwardly, her attention momentarily lost in the open collar of his gray henley shirt. “Sorry,” she managed. “I was reading.”

If Dean caught the lie, he graciously did not let on. “What about?” he asked while closing the door behind him.

“Area 51 conspiracies,” she shrugged and tossed the book onto the nightstand. “Aliens and shit.”

Dean nodded as he walked towards the bed. His approach was seductive, almost catlike, but his voice was steady, as if they were having a normal conversation with no underlying tension at all.

“You know aliens aren’t real, right?”

“Neither are ghosts,” she teased. “Or werewolves…” Dean stopped at the foot of the bed. “Vampires…” Her chest was pounding; his eyes were so bright and calm. “Fairies…”

Dean held up a hand and cringed. “Fairies are fuckin’ real.”

“And so might be aliens,” she said quickly, struggling to focus. Has his neck always been so thick?

“I guess.”

Very slowly, Dean placed his left knee on the bed. He watched her closely, ready to pull away if she wanted, but Y/N simply stared up at him with glassy eyes.

“Nothing really exists until we see it, ya know?” she said softly.

Dean hummed in agreement and leaned over, setting his palms on the mattress, ready to crawl towards her.

Y/N swallowed hard as a nervous smile pulled at her lips. Why is his shirt so tight? His arms are gonna bust out of the sleeves. When did his arms get so big?

“There are over twenty-five hundred UFO sightings per year in the US, so…”

Dean took his time moving over the bed and Y/N nearly lost her mind.

“…H-how can so many people…be…”

At the last moment, Dean changed course and settled down next to her, propping himself up on his right elbow.

“Be what?” he asked with a smirk.

“Be?” she asked in a daze.

“How can so many people be…” he quoted her. “Be what?”

Y/N laughed and turned on her side to face him. “I have no idea.”

Dean bit his lip as he smiled. His eyes drifted down across her face and beyond, and Y/N imagined she felt every inch they traveled, suddenly embarrassed by her choice in clothing. She tugged at the shirt to pull it down over her thighs, but Dean’s fingers closed around hers, halting her attempt at modesty.

“What’re you doing?” he asked softly.

“I just…” her words fell away in the wake of his stare. How the hell can a man have such pretty eyes? “Not fair,” she whispered, her thoughts pushing their way into reality.

“What’s not?”

Y/N sucked in a breath and leaned a little closer. “You.”

“Me?”

“You’re too beautiful,” she explained, finding a well of confidence tucked away deep inside. “It’s not fair to the rest of us.”

Dean’s fingers left hers and slid firmly up her arm. “I guess it’s been a while since you’ve seen yourself,” he countered as his hand weaved around the back of her neck. His fingers sifted through her hair and Y/N’s eyes fell closed as her lips parted. His hand was so warm, so big, so strong; his touch sent shivers through her. Dean leaned closer but not too close. She could feel his breath on her lips, feel the heat from his skin pulsing between them, but he stayed just out of reach.

“Dean?” she whispered, feeling the worry creep up through her stomach again.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Kiss me before I change my mind.”

“You sure?”

“Please.”

He started slow, a gentle press of his perfect lips to hers. Y/N held still, terrified but wanting, waiting to see what he had in store. Without pulling away, the kiss deepened, and Dean sucked softly against her bottom lip, urging her to move with him. When his hand came forward to cup her cheek, she smiled against him and pressed her tongue against his lips, needing more.

How are they so chapped and soft at the same time?

There was no answer, and when his tongue met hers in the middle, she couldn’t remember the question anyway. He tasted like whiskey covered toothpaste, and she laughed at the thought of him taking a shot right after brushing his teeth.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, a bit breathless as he pulled away to look her in the eyes.

“Nothing.” A quick kiss.

“You sure you’re OK with this?”

“You keep asking and I might run away and hide,” she said and laid back against the pillows, falling out of his reach. “So, what do you need me to do? Should I… strip?” She twirled the hem of her shirt between two fingers and cocked an eyebrow.

“If you want,” he said, pressing his tongue between his teeth.

Y/N shrugged and sat up, quickly pulling off her shirt and laying back down, arms stretched above her head. Dean’s eyes never left her for a second, and before she could say anything else, he pounced, rolling over to drop down onto of her, their lips meeting once again.

Such a good kisser.

Her fingers curled around the button of his shirt, trying to sneak inside as he pushed himself up and rolled onto his left side. She wanted to rip his shirt off, feel him against her, skin on skin, but Dean pushed her hand away. Y/N reached for his hips instead, trying to pull him back down. 

Dean rolled even further away and swatted at her hand. “I need you to relax,” he said between kisses.

“But I want you,” she whined, trying to twist herself underneath him.

“And you’ll have me,” he whispered. “But not yet.” He kissed her cheek. “You have one job to do right now.” He licked at her ear. “And that’s nothing.” A wet kiss to her pulse. “Just relax.” He nipped at her shoulder and Y/N pushed her head back against the pillow, stretching her throat for him.

“OK,” she said. “I trust you.”

Dean sucked hard on the base of her neck. “No talking.”

She groaned in stubborn protest, but Dean kissed the thought away.

His lips closed her eyes, warmed her blood, stopped her heart. He was plotting a course downward, and every inch he explored had Y/N reeling. Her head was fuzzy, her body tingling, her hands twitching, wanting to grab him and have her way. She was never good at being patient.

Dean’s lips locked around her nipple and Y/N arched her back, biting her lip to keep her mouth shut.

More please. Yes. Wow.

His right hand covered her left ankle, and Y/N let out a tiny whimper as his arm fell heavy across her middle. His fingers danced slowly up her shin, swirled around her knee, floated higher and higher as his tongue flicked against her nipple.

“Yes, do it, Dean. Please.”

He pulled back, leaving her breast with a wet pop. “I said shut up,” he said with a slight frown.

Y/N bent her neck to look down at him. “Technically you said ‘no talking’.”

“And what are you doing?” Dean shifted to hold himself above her.

“Talking?”

“Uh huh. So shut up.” His lips dragged down her throat and Y/N swallowed her reply.

God, do that again, please. How are his lips so warm? Is that a thing? Are mine that warm?

Once more, Dean made his trek down her body, winding his way around each sensitive spot, and noting each hitch of breath or subconscious whimper.

Thick fingers curled around the elastic of her panties, and Y/N let out a giggle that turned her cheeks red.

“What’s funny now?” Dean asked, pulling back a bit.

Y/N shrugged him off quickly. “Nothing. Nothing. Go ahead.”

Dean paused a moment before starting again, and got halfway down her thighs before she squirmed.

“Y/N, if you don’t stop thinking, you’re never gonna get there.”

“I can’t not think, Dean.”

“Well, try to stop.”

“It’s impossible!”

Dean let out a slightly frustrated huff and sat back on his heels. His hands settled gently on her hips and he whispered in a deep voice. “Close your eyes.” As soon as she did, his fingers were back inside the hem of her underwear, slowly peeling them down. “Don’t think about where I’m going.” His hands slid the cotton down and away, Y/N lifting her hips and each leg in turn. “Don’t think about this morning…” His gripped her ankle and pulled her down a bit, spreading her knees gently. “Don’t think about tomorrow…” Lightly, he traced the curve of her inner thigh, creeping higher and higher with each breath. “Don’t think about now.” His thumb brushed against her pussy like a warm breeze, barely there, yet so, amazingly there. “Don’t think, just feel.”

Whether he meant to or not, Dean had entranced her so deeply that Y/N felt her entire body melt into the mattress. She stopped trying to anticipate his next move, stopped worrying about what this would mean tomorrow, and at one point, stopped breathing all together. It wasn’t until his lips grazed her stomach that she noticed the burning in her lungs, and Y/N sucked in a deep breath, letting her muscles relax further as she exhaled.

“That’s better,” Dean whispered as he moved down to settle between her legs. His broad shoulders pushed her open, and Y/N floated as his lips pursed against her sex. He blew a breath across her slit and then followed it with a thick, slow swipe of his big tongue.

Y/N gasped at that first contact, her hips rolling on their own to help him out.

Dean placed his left hand on her stomach and pressed down firmly. “Relax,” he hissed and licked again.

Oh god just stop thinking why are you thinking just stop oh my god…

Dean spread her pussy with two gentle fingers and drew the tip of his tongue threw her folds, waking up every bit of her.

Fuck, that’s so good. Should I say something? I should say something. He should know.

Dean pressed his tongue deep inside as his nose rubbed her clit. Just a tease, but it felt so good.

“Ooh, Dean! So good!” she cooed aloud, trying to sound as porn-star-esque for him as possible.

Dean shook his head. “Stop.”

“No, don’t stop!” she giggled, not catching his meaning.

Dean sighed and lifted his head. “Stop moaning like that.”

Y/N looked down at him in question. “But…”

“It’s fake. You don’t have to be fake with me. Just stop.”

“It feels good. Shouldn’t I let you know?”

“Not like that.”

Y/N huffed and shrugged in defeat. “Well if I’m not allowed to talk, or moan, or whatever, how will you know if I’m enjoying myself?”

Dean smirked and slid back down into place. “I’ll know.” He ran his thumb across her clit slowly. “Just cut the crap and relax.”

Relax. I am relaxed. What the hell does he know-oh wow…

Dean’s tongue swirled slowly around her clit and Y/N’s internal monologue ceased. She focused her attention on the torturously slow turn of his tongue, on the fingertip that pulsed softly over her entrance. As he gradually picked up speed, her breathing went with it, and soon she was completely caught in the moment; loving for the press of his lips and the thrust of his hand.

His tongue made her hips buck, but he held her down with one strong hand. Her toes dug into the mattress, her hands flying about, unsure of where to land. At one point, she hooked her right leg over his shoulder and Dean chuckled proudly against her pussy as she let out a heated growled.

“Dean!” Y/N sat up as his fingers curled inside; his lips pulling tight against her clit. Dean’s hand left her stomach to pinch her nipple, and Y/N’s eyes rolled back with the rest of her. She hit the bed with a puff of sheets, and she grabbed his hand, holding him to her breast.

The faster Dean moved, the louder Y/N got. It was a true loud this time, with no thought behind any of it. She cursed, and moaned, and begged as she tried to move away, but Dean kept at it; determined to see it through.

“Holy shit! Fuck! Dean! I can’t… I can't…” She twisted above him, her fists bunched in the sheets, her head halfway under her pillow. “I can’t!”

“You can,” he said between wet pulls on her clit. “Let go, Y/N.”

“Can’t…can't… fuck!”

Y/N held her breath as a ball of pressure burst through her body.

Dean slowed his fingers, but kept them inside while her pussy closed in around him, clenching tightly with every pulse of her heart. He licked her gently, listening as she came down, her gasping breath fading to an intoxicated laugh as her muscles relaxed.

Her hand found his head and Y/N pet his hair, running her fingers through the short locks. He looked up with a smile and carefully pulled his fingers away.

“So?”

“Wow,” she panted. “Dude.”

Dean winked. “Told ya. I know what I’m doing.”

“Fuck.” Words fell away and Y/N reached for him with both hands, calling him upwards. He rose quickly, crawling over her until she cupped his cheeks in both hands. “You…I… Wow.”

Dean laughed and pecked her lips. “You’re welcome,” he said with a grin.

Y/N let her hand slide down across his chest, toying once again with the tiny plastic buttons on his shirt. “Ya know,” she said, “I think this was a good idea.”

“Me too.”

“Know what else is a good idea?”

Dean cocked his head. “What’s that?”

“Get these clothes off and I’ll show you.”

Dean pursed his lips and wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

Y/N tugged at his shirt, yanking it up between them. “Mhm.” Her fingertips tickled his stomach and he growled in her ear. “Your turn.”


End file.
